The Bread and Butter Vote: How the Custom House Ring Rigged Port Townsend Politics
In a stunning display of patronage politics in September 1876, federal employees in Port Townsend marched in lockstep to defeat local opposition, proving that government jobs were still the ultimate political currency.
The story, cleaned up
A cleaned-up reading of the newspaper page: spelling and layout repaired, one story lifted off a crowded page. It follows the original closely but it is not a transcription. The original page is below; read it if a detail matters.
PORT TOWNSEND, Sept. 4, 1876.
The Democrats held their primary on Saturday afternoon. Everything passed quietly while electing delegates to attend the County Convention.
The Republicans held their primary on Saturday evening. No one was allowed to vote except those that voted the Republican ticket at the last election and pledged themselves to support it. This caused considerable gnashing among the Republicans here, in fact than is pleasant for them.
PORT TOWNSEND, Sept. 7, 1876.
At a recent Republican precinct meeting, the party was divided into two factions: the 'Custom house Ring,' under the management of Collector Webster and Dr. Minor; and the 'Opposition,' under the leadership of Mayor Van Bokkelin and C. M. Bradshaw.
After some sparring, it was decided to vote by ballot. Dr. Minor, of the 'Custom House Ring,' was nominated against David Spore, of the 'Opposition.' The leaders stationed themselves on either side of the table where the tally-men sat, determined that the dear 'people' should submit to no 'shenanigan' from their adversaries.
The Custom House employees—clerks, boatmen and scavengers marched in solid phalanx, and voted for their 'bread and butter.' Next in the procession came the employees and men from the hospital who all voted the 'Custom House' ticket. And even poor old Charley Young, who was pardoned out of the penitentiary a few weeks ago and admitted to the hospital dying from a cancer on his face, had dragged himself to the meeting, and had a ticket with Dr. Minor's name on it shoved into his hand by one of the custom house officials.
The vote being counted, it stood: Dr. Minor, 24; Spore, 18. This result tallied the 'opposition' to weaken, and some went home mad. The next candidates were C. M. Bradshaw against Mr. Learned, of the custom-house ring, which resulted in just 24 votes for Learned, and Bradshaw was handsomely beaten.
This completed the utter rout of the opposition, and the remainder of the delegates, strange to say, were elected by just twenty-four votes each. The meeting adjourned, and the opposition vanished like the baseless fabric of a horrid night mare; the Hospital man nearly climbed the crawls into their little bunks, meditating, doubtless, upon the mystery of glory of American freedom and mutual. The custom-house boys were happy, and hurried home to tell their wives the good news—with the assurance that their bread and butter was secured for a little while longer—rejoicing in their hearts that they had again exercised the glorious privilege of American citizenship—the right of free and independent suffrage—and while tossing their little ones upon their knees, taught to them the story of G. W. and his little hatchet!
Next morning the irrepressible rant of the 'opposition' was again upon the war path, but the custom-house was satisfied with the victory; no resentment was offered and harmony again soon prevailed.
This 1876 account of federal employees voting as a bloc to protect their jobs is an early example of the 'spoils system' that would later be reformed by the Pendleton Act. It mirrors modern concerns about political patronage, where government workers might feel pressured to support specific candidates or parties in exchange for job security, blurring the line between civic duty and economic survival.
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